On Being a Writer, Part Four: The Attack of Writer’s Block

I have some serious writer’s block. It isn’t helped by multitasking, by sitting down to write and then reading articles about the current gun control hearings and how Liz Lemon has changed the face of TV for women. It isn’t helped by my rabbit nipping at my sleeve because she wants me to pet her instead of type. It isn’t even helped by that glass of wine I had with dinner (thanks for nothing, alcohol! I thought you were going to make me a better writer.)

I hate it when this happens because I have so little time to write as it is. It’s one thing if the work is going slowly, if I’m so into a story that I need to sit with it and think something through. But if it’s just straight up going badly, I’m miserable and pissed off. Do not attempt to talk to me; I’ll just redirect my death glare from the monitor to your face and you’ll be incinerated. It’s bad enough that what I’m writing sucks and isn’t coming together, but in addition to that, I’m wasting my own time when I have no time to waste. And yet there’s no way around it. If you write, you have to accept that sometimes, it will go poorly. You’re going to have a day or maybe a few days in a row where every word you put down feels wrong. (That is the day, by the way, that you will misguidedly start reading Zadie Smith’s new novel and cry over your bleak future as a novelist.) You will never have enough time to mull over your decisions and edit endlessly because at some point, you’ll have to get up and do something else, even if you have a bladder of steel and are willing to forgo food and even sleep to keep writing. I have done these things without really noticing when the words are flowing well, but when they are slow in coming, I’m looking for any excuse to escape. I end up searching around online for stuff. You know, just…stuff. I try to find the articles that I vaguely remember wanting to read from three days ago. I look at people’s Facebook feeds, even when I say as I’m reading, “Why am I looking at this again?” Sometimes, to my shame, I even hate-read certain sites just so I can scoff at the content. Basically, I try to find inspiration outside of myself when it feels like I’m typing instead of writing. And so now, here I am, being oh so meta and writing about how I’m having trouble writing. Awesome.

Does anyone else feel like they used to be more focused when they were younger? It’s like I’ve got advanced-onset ADHD sometimes. When I was 10 or 11, I spent hours researching the battles of World War II because I had decided I wanted to write historical fiction, and dammit, I was going to map out all the battles in a timeline that was constructed of actual calendars that I wrote up and filled out with the battles. Obviously my characters would know when these things happened, so I should too. Sure, it’s a bit weird that I did this, but it also shows discipline! And promise! And now, it’s like I’ve regressed at a time when I need the attention span the most. But this is the problem inherent in following creative pursuits – or any pursuits, really – as you get older and have more responsibilities: you don’t have enough time. You want every moment to count because you have so few moments. And there is the constant debate, the negotiation with yourself – and maybe your significant other – about where to spend your time: which project gets the attention? Which chore that should be done can be ignored the longest? How can you be successful at creating when you need a block of at least 30 minutes but you only have snippets of 10 or 15? And is it even worth it in the end? Are you good enough? (If you don’t think the answer is No, I hate you and your self-confidence.)

So here’s my new tactic: treat writing like I treat Krav Maga. When I go to class, I have to focus intensely and be only in the moment so I don’t get hit in the face. There is no time for self-doubt, I just have to block the punch. Of course, there is a lot of practice, a lot of repetition, and an amount of instruction needed to build the muscle memory to make that block. When it comes down to it, though, if you overthink it, you get hit. So my new plan as of right now this second is to just type. Maybe if I just ignore absolutely everything else, I’ll finally triumph over writer’s block.

I’ll have a bag of frozen peas ready for the inevitable bruising.

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About Katie

I love telling a good story and making sure it's correctly punctuated. My essays and fiction have appeared in Midway Journal, The Toast, Broad! (a gentleperson's magazine), and Wilderness House Literary Review, among others, and was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

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4 thoughts on “On Being a Writer, Part Four: The Attack of Writer’s Block”

“…but in addition to that, I’m wasting my own time when I have no time to waste.”

This hits so, so close to home. I’m struggling with a screenplay right now and it’s just not. coming. together. I hate it and I hate everything. (Cue Ron Swanson running away like a petulant toddler.)

Anyway, yes — I totally hear you, get you, sympathize with you. You don’t have ADHD. You have more demands on your time than you did as an 11-year-old. You have to feed your kids, make sure the rabbit doesn’t die, and earn the dough needed for your paper clip collection.

I’m convinced that writer’s block will often simply go away on its own, like a virus, and no amount of berating yourself will end it. Maybe the writer’s block antibodies you’re building up now will help for the next time it tries to attack. :)

I empathize with a lot of what you wrote in your post. Personally, I feel at my lowest and most vulnerable in between pieces. Now, here I am, faced with a blank page and having to create something out of nothing all over again. Beginning a piece for me is the hardest part of writing (as opposed to the other “just plain hard” aspects of writing). But when I have writing blocks, what I’ve found works is to just keep at it. Not necessarily keep typing, but keep working at trying to figure out how to get the piece going in the right direction again. I once, fairly recently, sat for three hours in front of my computer trying to figure out which direction the story wanted to go. I tried to continue it one way, then erased that and tried something else, over and over again. After three hours, I had no additional words or sentences to my piece. It looked as though I had wasted hours. But once that third hour passed, I finally found the thin connecting thread between what I had of the story and how the story wanted to unfold. And then, the next two hours, the writing went fairly smoothly. So what I discovered is that when one of these writing blocks shows its face — stare right back, and work at the problem. Even though nothing may be getting written, or it seems like you’re wasting your time, your brain is actually working things out and, eventually, a breakthrough will occur. You don’t know how long it’ll take. Maybe half an hour, or maybe three hours like it happened with me.

I know you don’t have large segments of time to work on your writing, but I still think that the advice works the same for people like you who are short on time. Rather than sit three hours in a row staring at the screen trying to figure your story out, you might have twelve 15-minute sessions of that going on. The key is to not get discouraged and believe that your time is not being wasted, it’s just taking time for your brain to figure out the puzzle that is your story.

Interesting – it does make sense that your brain is working out the puzzle, even as you sit and stare at the screen, but I guess I never really think about it like that. I’ll give it a try; hopefully it will take my frustration level down a huge notch! And then I’ll have the energy to get the writing done when my brain’s got everything sorted.